


Foggy Nights and Dazed Eyes

by bubblegumclouds



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn With Plot, Sexual Experimentation, Suicidal Thoughts, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumclouds/pseuds/bubblegumclouds
Summary: Blake comes out without meaning to and Schofield... well, what doesn't Schofield do.(aka the angsty 'blake catches schofield wanking all the time' fic)
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 8
Kudos: 161





	Foggy Nights and Dazed Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rollercoaster of a fic so enjoy. Schofield goes through like 217 internal conflicts and changes his mind constantly but whatever, you're probably here for the hand jobs anyway!
> 
> Yes, I know this isn't PC and I know some parts of it are incredibly homophobic but it's 1917 and I was trying to make this at least a little accurate.

Blake rounded the corner with panting breaths, the remaining piece of torn-up bread between his fingers as he savoured the last of their food. His head was down, making sure he didn’t trip over the bodies or equipment littering the ice-like mud. He’d been thinking intensely about new ways to keep the rats off him when his head was whipped upwards by a groaning noise.

Blake hadn’t been involved in the fight as long as his fellow soldiers had but he knew groaning was a sign you were most likely about to lose somebody so he’d learned the hard way to react quickly. His eyes flickered over to Schofield instinctively, his closest friend was always the one he’d check on first. Unfortunately, the groaning was coming from him, fortunately, it wasn’t the type of groaning Blake had expected. Although given how frequently it was now happening, he really should.

“Again?! Bloody ‘ell. You wanna build a flap down there,” Blake gestured towards Schofield’s hard dick while trying not to be put off his last mouthful of bread.  
“Well it’s not my fault you keep interrupting is it, can’t get a moments peace,” Schofield snapped, his jaw clenching as he shoved himself away angrily. Blake stifled a laugh, Schofield was always so dramatic when he was frustrated, the pout that graced his face was quite adorable. Blake sat down in the dugout gap opposite. He stared in amusement as Schofield lay silently, his dick poking upwards in his trousers.

“You could pitch us a tent with that-“ Blake snorted in a giggle after a minutes tense quiet and Schofield was extremely quick to snap back.  
“Shut it, Tom, for god's sake, such a child,” Schofield grumbled, swinging his water bottle up off the floor by its holster.

“You can carry on anyway, lads are playin’ cards down the frontline. Knowing Malky, they ain’t stopping ‘til he’s got 20 bob at least,” Blake laughed, lying down and taking his paper out. He knew if he left it any longer before writing home his mum would likely come over just to drag him back again.

“Carry on?!” Schofield shook his head, Blake often did things to remind Schofield of his age and that was definitely one of them. His shame hadn’t quite kicked in yet, although Schofield had known Blake for months and he wasn’t quite sure if it was ever going to.  
“Yeah, don’t see why not. Only me an’ you ‘ere,” Blake shrugged it off as if they were talking about what they were having for dinner. Well, if they had any dinner. Not if Schofield was going to continue masturbating in the middle of a trench.

“Blake, you’re being ridiculous, you sound like a bloody queer,” Schofield had meant it as a passing comment but Blake’s face dropped from that innocent, gleeful grin to empty a second after the words had left his friend’s lips. It took a second to realise the connection between the sudden mood change and what had caused it but when it did, it nearly sent the older man breathless. 

Schofield froze up, suddenly all too aware of Blake next to him. His jaw clenched and his head was reeling with comments to make, his fist at his side. He chanced a quick glance over, the air thick between them. He softened when he saw a tear dripping that Blake had thought would be hidden by the angle he was at. He was a kid, probably misguided and still too bold for a life of war. Things would wear him down to the right path eventually.

Blake had given up on their chat and tried to continue writing but his hands were suddenly too shaky to be putting down any legible words. Schofield opened his mouth to ask any one of the million questions he had but he knew doing so may put them both in danger. Plus, he didn’t want to know the answer.  
“Not a soul, Blake. You hear me?” Schofield looked over, his face stoic and for once Blake looked a little frightened. His eyes were wide and his plump bottom lip stuck out. He nodded hesitantly but eagerly as if Schofield were about to beat him.

They lay there in silence for at least as long as it took for the rat with part of its foot missing to go to the end of the trench and back. Blake had given up writing and was now twirling a family picture around his fingers, his eyes glassy and his face twitching occasionally. Schofield was overthinking, as usual, his face steel and emotionless.

“I know a part of you will hate me now,” Blake whispered softly but matter-of-factly. If Schofield hadn’t been racing over the same revelation repeatedly then he wouldn’t have known what Blake was going on about, but he knew. Before he could attempt to garble out a snappy warning or comment on what he really thought, Blake carried on.

“All the war, the bombs, the guns, the hun, don’t scare me. You expect to die on a battlefield, blood dripping from your barnet and limbs all over the bloody place,” Blake laughed a little, his eyes fixed on one point so his brain could keep going, “but you don’t expect to have to fight yourself as well,” Blake’s voice wavered on the last part. The words took a second for Schofield to process, he had to allow them in over the loud barrier of ‘homosexual’ he’d put up. Blake finally snapped out of his gaze, his head shaking as he rubbed his eyes with his fist.  
“I’m goin’ for a walk, if I don’t make it back the water’s yours,” Blake pointed to the bottle he’d discarded, “oh, and put your cock away before I get back.” Blake left before Schofield could even come up with a retort.

Being alone again now meant Schofield could begin to process what Blake had told him. It was a bloody big thing to process, that was for sure. Tom Blake, a homosexual. A _pervert_. He never would have seen it. He certainly never would have thought he’d admit to it with anyone around. It was illegal and if the bombs didn’t kill you, anyone who was holding a gun and heard that certainly would. The war was for men, not sissy queers.

But no matter how much he reminded himself of that, it didn’t stop him thinking fondly of the younger man. None of the words seemed to fit Blake. Schofield had never met one of _those_ people but he was sure that someone as kind, funny and wonderful as Blake could never be deemed a pervert. The word seemed too harsh, it seemed vile to describe such an innocent man. But then again Blake had just sat there and practically admitted it. Schofield had never seen that before. And then there was his speech, that was what stuck with him. _‘You don’t expect to fight yourself as well’,_ he kept repeating that line around in his head.

Schofield had never been a fan of the death and the violence, he’d joined the war when he had to, too young to know better. Now he’d been in it for a few years he couldn’t help but begin to wonder if all the lives that had been taken in front of his eyes were all worth it. He’d long ago forgotten why he was fighting and instead just focussed on whatever he was told to do. But if fighting war seemed pointless to him, then surely fighting love was worse? Love was the purest thing he could think of, the only reason most of them carried on to make it home.

Schofield tried to imagine what it would be like to come home knowing nobody would love you if they were to know the truth. It made his stomach twist unpleasantly, the thought of living a life forcing yourself to be void of love at all just so you weren’t imprisoned. It was a lot to process on a lazy Tuesday afternoon, that was for sure.

It had turned into evening by the time Blake came back. Schofield looked up to see Blake covered in clouds of dust and caked in even more mud than when he left. He was also bleeding, a cut clean along his cheek dripping.  
“What happened to you?” Schofield asked tentatively, not sure where their friendship stood now. Blake was clearly in a worse mood than before as he just shrugged, settling in and curling up like he did when he wanted to sleep.

“The rats will be licking your face if you don’t cover it, here,” Schofield passed over a white cloth but Blake shoved it away, shaking his head. Schofield kept it there for a beat longer before shoving it back into his pocket. He sat and stared at Blake unashamedly, clearly the boy wasn’t right. His left arm kept twitching and he was still silent which was the worst part.

Eventually, Schofield got up with the cloth in hand. He dipped it into his water and began gently dabbing at Blake’s wound. Blake averted his eyes to any place that wasn’t his best friend’s incredibly close face. Schofield winced when Blake did but other than that he stayed stoic, lightly patting the wound.  
“I’m fine Scho, stop fussin’,” Blake said eventually, once most of the blood was gone and a gruesome scab began forming over the area. Schofield knew that was his queue to move but something in him refused to.

“How did this happen, Blake?” Schofield asked, slightly accusingly, his eyebrow raised and his eyes boring down. Blake began to get fidgety, that pouty lip quivering yet again. Schofield almost left it, got up and just let him figure it out. That was until Blake told him.  
“I-I went over, patched up some wire,” Blake admitted and Schofield’s head whipped up. It took a minute to register what had happened but when it did, Schofield couldn't contain the rage that encased him.

“You did WHAT? Are you a bloody moron?! You could have died!” Schofield yelled and Blake’s jaw clenched. He looked like a child being told off by their parent for having an extra cookie. Blake said nothing so Schofield continued.  
“What would I have told your brother, eh? His idiot sibling had a strop and got himself killed because he was behaving like a child?” Schofield got closer to Blake, his wild gestures growing bigger the more he carried on. Blake continued to lay still, tears falling but nothing else seemed to be happening.

“Are you even listening to me? Why, Blake, why would you go on such a pathetic suicide mission?” Schofield asked, shaking Blake’s shoulder now, just to get a rise out of him. Blake put his head down, sighing before looking up at his best friend. His eyes were blurred and his teeth were clenched.

“Because I’d rather die like that than because I’m-“ Blake’s voice wavered and he turned back to where he’d been lying before. 

Schofield froze in his place, his mouth falling open as he stumbled back a little and gripped on to the mud at the side of him. He stood there for a second, tears welling in his eyes as he regained his balance. It had knocked the wind out of him. His best friend, he’d spent months fighting for, he’d almost died for, would rather have been shot than feel any sort of love. Schofield shut his eyes and tried to hold on to what they’d been taught but it was dissolving. This wasn’t a law, this wasn’t a disease, this was Blake. Blake who’d killed for him, almost died for him.

Emotions overcame him and he reached down, dragging Blake up and into the fiercest hug he possibly could. Blake froze up at first but once he felt the slow, warm drip of his best friend’s tears soaked into his shoulder, he softened and relaxed into Schofield’s arms.  
“You deserve love, Blake. We’ve fought too fucking hard not to deserve it,” Schofield muttered and that began Blake’s tears then, he cried like he hadn’t ever cried before. Sobs muffled in Schofield’s jacket and fists clenched in the fabric.

“It’s gonna kill me Scho, I’m a pervert, a _queer_ ,” Blake whispered, his throat wet and raspy. Schofield pulled back, his palms grasping either side of the younger man’s face.  
“Then you find someone just as perverted and just as queer, you leave and you never look back. Got it?” Schofield insisted, his face the same as when he’d been bleeding out the week they met. Blake nodded, his breathing finally calming now that things had been talked about. Schofield let his hands fall to Blake’s shoulders, his gaze averting down as they went their separate ways into opposite sides of the trench to take a breather. 

-

Blake was awoken that night when only the noise of distant bombs and shuffles of drunk soldiers polluted the air. At first, he thought it was someone passing them, their breaths panting and heavy. But then he realised it wasn’t fading or getting louder, it was staying constant. As Blake grew more alert and tuned into that noise specifically, he recognised what it was. He muffled a smirk in his sleeve and discreetly rolled, hoping the movement would get Schofield’s hand out of his trousers. He must have been too wrapped up in it because it did nothing.

Blake tried to sleep again, forcing himself to focus on other noises but he was always drawn back to Schofield. A few choked off moans and whines began filtering through as things got more intense. That’s when Blake felt a stirring in his underwear. Oh god no. Blake shut his eyes in panic, his heart racing as his stomach churned. Schofield could just about put aside Blake’s... problem, but this was something he wouldn’t get away with. He pushed himself down but in doing so gave his dick the friction it wanted.

“No, no, no,” Blake muttered to himself, tears burning at his eyes as his hand began to tremble. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Blake took a few deep breaths, thinking of disgusting things instead of how Schofield’s hand sounded slapping against his wet- no. Blake shook his head, squeezing his eyes together to get rid of the image playing. Flashes of him on top of the older man, him looking up through his eyelashes with his mouth full, him reaching down and rubbing gently.

“Stop it, STOP IT,” Blake muttered at first but his voice grew louder when he got frustrated, unable to control his thoughts anymore. Schofield paused.  
“You have got to be fucking joking,” Schofield seethed through his teeth, livid at being interrupted yet again.  
“Sorry, I just, you was so loud,” Blake sighed, closing his eyes and willing everything to just stop. He wanted the ground to swallow him up but all he could do was lie on it, erection twitching in his trousers and nothing he could do to stop it.

Schofield reached down again, Blake could hear the rustling of fabric.  
“I’m not going another fucking day, cover your ears for 5 minutes,” Schofield muttered and Blake happily obliged, maybe if he couldn’t hear the noises, it wouldn’t make him so hard. He forced his fingers in deep, so hard it almost hurt but what he couldn’t hear, his brain made up for. A nice melody of deep groans mixed in with his name playing instead. He told himself if he could survive the next few minutes then that was it, it was over and he could relax. He began to let his mind wander, even allowed himself to think about home for a minute. Anything to take his mind off what he knew would get him killed.

“Blake,” Schofield shouted and Blake’s fingers left his ears, “it’s no use. I can’t come while you’re lying two foot away from me with your fingers in your bloody ears,” Schofield grumbled. Blake lay there, not sure what they could do but he certainly couldn’t put up with another moment like this again for a while so they had to sort it.

“I-I can go for a walk?” Blake suggested but Schofield shook his head.  
“You’ll be blown to bits, look, just keep quiet and come here,” Schofield snapped and Blake’s brows furrowed, his legs going to jelly at the thought of Schofield knowing Blake’s current state.  
“I-I can’t,” Blake stuttered, frantically thinking of an explanation that was good enough.  
“Blake I can see you’re hard, I’m not blind. Not asking again, come here,” Schofield said and Blake ran through a world of emotions as he stood up on wobbly feet and stumbled over to Schofield’s side.

“On this side,” Schofield gestured with his head where he wanted Blake to go and with some unflattering crawling he just about managed to squeeze in. Blake was about to ask what they were doing when Schofield began fiddling with the front of Blake’s trousers.  
“W-What?!” Blake whispered, looking between Schofield and his crotch.  
“You’re a queer, I need to get off,” Schofield said as if it was plain as day, “unless you wanna sit there as hard as nails?” Schofield was calmer than Blake expected. He couldn’t deny, it was a fair point.

“B-But I’m... a-and you’re not...” Blake trailed off, not able to say the word and Schofield froze for a second before brushing it away and continuing.  
“Well unless you see any girls around, we’re gonna have to make do. Don’t start fuckin’ complaining now,” Schofield chuckled, his fingers trembling with desperation.

Blake gave up arguing, opening Schofield’s trousers more and spitting on his hand. They both grasped each other at the same time, breathily moaning in relief.  
“God that’s good,” Schofield muttered, his breath coming faster as Blake twisted his palm over the wet head. Schofield was a lot closer than Blake, nearly constantly leaking into his hand with twitching hips. Blake was still just getting started so he tried to speed up, knowing the awkwardness would arrive once Schofield had finished. Blake tried hard to keep his eyes firmly focussed anywhere that wasn’t Schofield’s face but it was incredibly difficult. His gaze briefed over him and all the breath left his lungs.

“F-Fuck, oh,” Blake desperately whined upon seeing how utterly wrecked Schofield looked. That was what he needed to get him close, for sure. He was a mess of sweat and mud, all closed-eyed and growling pants.

He tried to look away but he knew Schofield was close, he could feel it in the way his muscles shifted under him and his fingers curled tighter around Blake’s dick. Blake quickly reached into Schofield’s pocket and pulled out the white cloth, placing it in his cupped hand.

“F-Fuck Blake, I-I’m-“ Schofield tried to calm himself to warn Blake but only found himself locking eyes with him. He looked up at Blake, rounded cheeks so violently flushed, plump lips so beautifully glistening and eyes full of pure lust and want. As soon as he felt that stirring heat threatening to spill over he reached up, tugging Blake’s head down roughly for the most intense, messy kiss he’d ever given. Their tongues met and Schofield moaned loudly directly into Blake’s mouth as he came heavily into the awaiting cloth.

Blake expertly worked him through it, finger running over the slit and squeezing the last of his pleasure from him until he felt thoroughly empty. Schofield pulled away, just as Blake’s hand fell onto his chest. Schofield’s eyes were shut, the power of the moment temporarily blinding him as he allowed the last of it to run through his veins.

When he opened his eyes, drunk on getting the release he so desperately craved, he noticed something was different. Blake no longer looked turned on or utterly debauched, instead, he looked scared. His eyes were full of sorrow and his lips were pressed together. Instead of commenting or attempting to change the mood, he figured he had a payback to make.

Wordlessly, Schofield reached down and took hold of Blake’s dick that was still twitching on his hip. He mirrored the actions Blake had done on him and brought the white cloth to his tip. Blake couldn’t look at him, instead choosing to close his eyes or look upwards. His panting breaths got faster and his back arched.  
“I-I’m gonna-“ Blake warned and Schofield tightened his fist just as Blake reached his peak. Come shot out of him as his eyes rolled back into his head and a long, low moan rumbled in his chest. He looked down as he softened and Schofield let go, their come mixed on the cloth below.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Blake whispered before freezing up, not meaning to say that aloud. He avoided Schofield’s gaze after that comment until the older man started chuckling. Blake squinted, daring to let his eyes rest on whatever expression he was making.  
“I hate that you’re right,” Schofield said, looking up at Blake and forcing him to keep their eyes locked. Blake looked a mix of nervous and confused.  
“What?” he asked, already shoving his soft dick back into his trousers lest anyone came for an early morning stroll.  
“It was sort of hot,” Schofield admitted, looking down at the cloth before chucking it aside and burying it in the mud.

Blake lay still for a minute, wondering what their situation was now before realising he was probably supposed to have left pretty fast afterwards.  
“Uh, thanks,” Blake said before beginning the most awkward crawl across Schofield's body and onto the floor. Schofield put an arm out, his look softened but his jaw still tense.

“Don’t- it’ll be colder if you move,” Schofield said slowly and Blake gently made his way back, lying down and curling up next to his best friend. Schofield was right, it was a lot warmer with them together. Schofield shuffled them a little until Blake had enough room to be comfortable. Blake’s eyes began to get heavy but he still kept his head elevated above Schofield’s shoulder. Sometimes he’d drop off and his arm would slip but he’d startle back awake the second his ear brushed the rough fabric. That was until Schofield placed a hand on his head and gently nudged it down, Blake’s heart was hammering in his chest but if Schofield could feel it, he never mentioned it.

“Night, Tom,” Schofield muttered, a hint of a smile on his face as he pinched Blake’s cheek. Blake knew that was his friend’s way of saying they were still okay, nothing had changed.  
“Night, Will,” Blake replied, settling down with a hand over Schofield’s stomach.


End file.
